The Proxy Triptych
by MarchHare5
Summary: Entry for Beyond the Pale contest. Bella and Carlisle are out celebrating their first wedding anniversary when they encounter a handsome, young man and invite him home with them. But things are not as they seem. AH, OOC, mature themes.
1. The Wife

**Beyond the Pale Contest**

**Title: **Proxy

**Pen Name: **MarchHare5

**Characters: **Bella, Carlisle, Edward

**Disclaimer: **S Meyer owns Twilight. I own this plot.

**Image that Inspired You: **Number Twelve (the woman with two men)

**To see other entries in the Beyond the Pale Contest, please visit the C2 page:  
www (dot) fanfiction (dot) net/community/Beyond_the_Pale_Contest_Entries/83159/**

**Warning: This story contains graphic sexual content and mature themes.**

Many thanks to my wonderful beta Zors and to luvrofink and Belindella for their help, support, and encouragement. If you're not reading their stories, you freakin' should be. Thanks also to my non-Twilight friend X for her support and help in keeping this little story as genuine as possible. I only _wish_ you could read her stories…

Cross-posted to TWCS Library.

**Summary:** Bella and Carlisle are out celebrating their first wedding anniversary when they encounter a handsome, young man and invite him home with them. But things are not as they seem.

* * *

_Proxy_

From the way my husband gazed at me from across the table, anyone could see how much he adored me. After a whirlwind courtship, during which he had swept me off my feet, it was now our first anniversary, and we were sharing an intimate gourmet dinner at an exclusive restaurant. Perhaps not intimate enough, as throughout the evening I had felt the stares in our direction from both fellow diners and staff alike, but who could blame them? Though fifteen years my senior, my husband was incredibly attractive, with blond hair and grey eyes that belonged in the movies and the body of a man twenty years younger. And if his words of praise were to be believed, tonight I was a vision, my wrap dress—chosen as usual for me tonight by my husband—accentuating my curves and my hair styled in an elegant up-do, revealing the pale, slim column of my neck. His anniversary gift to me, a delicate platinum necklace with three brown topaz briolettes surrounded by diamond florettes, drew the eye down to my cleavage.

We had enjoyed an exquisite meal of French cuisine, and were now taking a moment to enjoy the last of our wine before ordering dessert, the menu card lying between us with promises of decadence. As we sipped our wine, our eyes drifted about the dimly lit room, surveying the other occupants. There were a few men and women still standing at the bar, in addition to the couples at their tables, all elegantly dressed.

A brush of my fingers against my husband's forearm brought his attention back to me.

"How…" I began tentatively, then after a short pause I continued. "How would you feel if I were to choose tonight?" I asked quietly, my expression innocently hopeful.

He stared back at me for a moment before his face melted into a radiant smile. He grasped my outstretched hand in his and lifted it to his lips, placing tender kisses on each finger. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to give you what you desire, my love, tonight of all nights," he told me, his thumb rubbing gentle, soothing circles on the back of my hand. "Do you see something you like?" he urged.

I smiled back at him and indicated my choice, as he agreed with a doting smile and a nod. Moments later, our waitress arrived, and he ordered for us both. We waited patiently, enjoying the quiet, intimate touch of our hands, until a server returned with our dessert, a rich, chocolate mousse. My husband scooted his chair closer to mine, and once again ignoring the envious looks from the other diners, he delighted in feeding me the creamy indulgence, his eyes darkening with arousal as he watched my lips curl seductively around the spoon. My own excitement was heightened as I noticed the growing bulge in his pants.

As we were waiting for the waitress to return with my husband's credit card, he excused himself from our table and made his way over to the bar. My eyes followed him as he approached one of the men still standing there, tall and handsome, with a mess of copper and bronze locks. They shared a few quiet words, and the man glanced briefly over at me before returning his attention to my husband. Caught watching, I looked away, my fingers playing in the condensation gathered on the stem of my water glass. A moment or two later, through my lowered eyes I glimpsed the man nodding, sparing me another look, before accepting my husband's business card.

My husband returned to our table and placed his credit card back in his wallet, before offering me his hand to help me to my feet. He carefully draped my wrap over my shoulders, his gentle hands lingering as he placed a tender kiss just behind my ear.

"So beautiful," he whispered, his hot breath ghosting across my skin, and I shivered, my breath catching in my throat, before taking his proffered arm as he escorted me from the restaurant.

The drive home was uneventful, though punctuated by tender caresses of his hand against my cheek, or his fingers intertwining with my own as he pulled my hand to his lips.

We had barely stepped inside our house when there was a knock at our front door. My husband, who had been heading for the bar to fix himself a nightcap, detoured back to the foyer. When he returned, he was accompanied by the man I had seen him speaking with at the restaurant.

"Isabella, darling, I'd like to introduce you to Edward Masen," he said as he held his arm out in welcome to our visitor.

The man stepped forward eagerly and grasped my offered hand, raising it and brushing my knuckles with his soft lips. A jolt of electricity traveled through my body at his touch, and I was rendered momentarily breathless. His eyes, piercing green, raked over my form in open admiration as he straightened, and as he smiled at me, I think my heart skipped a beat.

"My pleasure," he said. My God, the man's voice was like liquid velvet, and I could feel warmth spreading throughout me, pooling at the apex of my thighs. I shifted slightly, suddenly uncomfortable, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a smirk.

"Scotch?" I heard my husband ask, and I was granted a reprieve as the man's attention was diverted from me momentarily.

"Yes, please, with just a splash of water," he answered.

"Coming right up. Darling?"

"Nothing for me, thank you," I said, detecting a tremor in my voice. I had had enough wine with dinner, and with this gorgeous man here with us, I felt the need to keep my wits about me.

"So, Mr. Masen—" I began, forcing myself to sound more confident.

"Edward, please," he interrupted with another dazzling smile.

"Edward," I acknowledged with a nod and a blush. "What is it that you do?"

He thanked my husband for the drink before answering. "I'm an architect actually. About six months ago I left the firm I had been working for and ventured out on my own. I'm happy to say that my business is really starting to pick up, and my client base is growing."

"That's wonderful to hear," my husband said pleasantly. "What type of buildings do you design?"

"Well, for the most part I've been designing luxury homes and the occasional residential addition," he replied, looking down at his drink and chuckling quietly before pursing his lips. _God, those lips…_ "I'm hoping that eventually I'll make enough of a name for myself that I can design something a bit more… shall we say, stimulating." His eyes twinkled as he looked up at me, and I felt the heat rushing to my cheeks again, as well as to other places.

"What about yourselves?" he inquired after a moment.

I had to clear my throat before responding. "I used to work as an editor for children's books," I told him, "but I haven't worked since we married a year ago." I turned to my husband, smiling warmly, and he stepped closer to me, his arm slipping around me to rest his hand possessively on the small of my back. "Carlisle, however, is a well-known cardiologist. In fact, I'm sure there are many who would agree with me that he is the best in the state."

It was my husband's turn to look away and quietly chuckle, and I was surprised to see a slight pink tinge his cheeks. His modesty was endearing. "I wouldn't go that far, love," he said with a smile.

"No need to be so modest, Carlisle," I said, looking at him indulgently. "I've heard your chief of staff say that very thing more than once."

"Enough about me," he laughed, shaking his head, clearly embarrassed by my praise. "Edward, as you're an architect, would you mind indulging me for a few minutes?" Edward raised his eyebrows in response, waiting for him to continue. "I've been considering making some alterations upstairs, moving a wall perhaps, or…"

Edward smirked. "And you'd like me to have a look and give you my opinion?"

"Yes," Carlisle exhaled with a smile. "If it's not too much trouble?"

I felt a frown drift across my features for a moment before I was able to replace it with a look of pleased interest.

My husband took Edward's drink from his hand and set both of their glasses on the bar before leading us out to the hall and the staircase to the second floor. Once again Carlisle's hand brushed against my lower back as he gently guided me up the stairs ahead of our guest. I could feel his eyes on me from behind, watching my ass sway and the muscles flex in my calves as I moved in front of him.

Carlisle opened the double doors to our large master bedroom and ushered first me, then Edward, inside, closing the doors behind us. My eyes focused on Edward, watching his face as he took in the opulence of the room, the rich golds and deep reds of the fabrics, the creaminess of the soft leather chairs, the dim lights casting a warm glow on the ceiling and the dark-stained wood of the headboard.

"Beautiful," Edward breathed from his position near the door, looking across at me where I stood at the foot of the bed. "I wouldn't change a thing." I blushed, looking away, and I could feel my heart pick up its pace.

"No," my husband agreed in a low voice. "On second thought, you are quite right." He moved toward me, motioning to Edward as he did so toward a chair facing the bed. "Please, have a seat."

Edward took the offered chair, crossing his legs and leaning back comfortably, and watched as Carlisle approached me. My husband stepped behind me, turning me so I was facing our guest, and nuzzled at his favorite place behind my ear as he trailed his hands up my arms, squeezing gently as he reached my shoulders. "I love you so much, Isabella," he breathed. "I don't know what I'd do without you. You're my life."

Stifling a whimper, I closed my eyes and leaned back against him, my heart, my body yearning for him. He placed tender kisses along my neck while his hands glided down to my waist to untie the knot of my wrap dress. Ever so slowly he parted the fabric, following the edges back up to my shoulders, brushing against my slender collarbones as he gently eased the lace sleeves down my arms. Soon I was standing before both men wearing nothing but my necklace, my bra and panties, and my strappy high heels.

I opened my eyes and looked over at our guest. Edward's gaze, dark-eyed and intense, was riveted on me, and his chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. The knuckles of both hands were white as he gripped the arms of his chair. He followed the path of my husband's hands as they raised once again, this time to my hair, to remove the pins keeping my waves in place atop my head. With the pins gone, Carlisle shook out my mahogany tresses, coaxing them to cascade seductively around my face and shoulders. He buried his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply of my scent, before turning his attention to the man in the chair.

"Is she not the most beautiful creature you've ever seen?" he asked, his fingers once again ghosting down my arms, leaving little trails of fire in their wake.

Edward's eyes missed nothing, noticing how I shifted my weight on my feet, discreetly seeking friction for the ache that was growing between my thighs. "Oh, by far," he answered huskily, and when his tongue peeked out between his lips, I suddenly felt light-headed, as all the blood in my body rushed to my groin.

Carlisle moved as if he were going to kneel and abruptly Edward halted him. "No," he said. "The shoes stay on—if you please," he added politely. My husband acknowledged him with a nod and a smile, and I could see his own eyes darkening again in arousal.

"And the necklace?" Carlisle asked, his fingertips dancing over my collarbone once more, an eyebrow raised in question.

"That stays too," Edward intoned, his voice deep with desire.

Carlisle's eyes met mine, anticipation evident in his expression, before he took my hand and led me to the side of the bed, where he helped me lie down comfortably, arranging me just so, one knee bent, my legs slightly parted. His hand trembled, just enough that only I would notice, and he brushed the thumb of his free hand along my bottom lip, pulling it from my teeth. I looked up at him, hoping, but he merely smiled at me and stepped away, turning back to Edward.

He invited the man to stand, and our guest followed my husband's example as he began to remove first his suit jacket and tie, then his white dress shirt. I watched, spellbound, as the two most beautiful men I had ever seen stripped before me, down to their boxers. They were both magnificent to behold; I knew Carlisle took excellent care of his body, and was very fit, but it was obvious that Edward did the same. Both men were graced with six-pack abs, though neither was muscle-bound, something that I had never found appealing. Edward was a few inches taller than my husband as well, and his younger body was more firm and supple. And whereas Carlisle's chest was bare, Edward's bore a light dusting of copper, gold, and bronze, thinning down to a line below his navel that disappeared enticingly beneath the elastic of his boxers. Along with the V of his hips, it formed an arrow pointing to an impressive bulge that I was growing impatient to see for myself.

It was then that Edward hesitated and looked again to my husband for direction, but Carlisle ignored him for the moment, instead turning back toward me. He knelt with one knee on the bed, leaning over me, while Edward watched from down by my feet. Carlisle cupped my face in both hands, stroking my cheeks with his thumbs, and then kissed me chastely on the lips. I brought my hands up around his neck, sliding my fingers into his hair, and attempted to deepen the kiss, but he pulled away, removing my hands from behind his head and squeezing them gently in his own. He touched his forehead to mine, his eyes closing as he whispered to me.

"I love you, Isabella. Happy anniversary, my darling."

"And I love you, too, Carlisle," I choked out. "So very much." I had sworn to myself I would not cry when this moment arrived, and it took every ounce of resolve I possessed to maintain my composure.

His lips brushed against my forehead briefly, and I knew that he misunderstood the glistening in my eyes as he stepped away from me. He reached over and grasped Edward's wrist and urged him forward onto the bed, joining his hand with mine. Carlisle took a moment to retrieve a foil packet from the drawer of the nightstand, leaving it on top of the table for when it was needed, then retreated to the chair closest to the bed, where he would be able to see everything clearly, every stroke, every caress.

Edward stared over at Carlisle, perhaps a bit uncertain for a moment, but with gentle pressure from my fingers on his, his attention reverted back to me, and the cloud of concern in his eyes dissipated under the heat of his gaze. He knelt between my legs and began to trail his hands along the sensitive skin of my inner thighs. He lifted one leg, bringing my ankle to his lips, planting a gentle kiss there just above the strap of my shoe. Straightening my leg before him, he trailed open-mouthed kisses along my calf to the back of my knee, his tongue peeking out to taste my skin. He did the same with the other leg, kissing and licking. Leaning over me, he then made his way up slowly along my thighs, but as he neared the place where they joined, he diverted his attention to my hands and arms. Each finger, my palms, wrists, arms, elbows, and shoulders were lavished with his soft kisses and gentle scrapes of his teeth.

When he was through covering my arms in his sensual kisses, he pulled both of my hands over my head and held them there as he moved on to my neck, throat, and collarbones. He carefully worked his way around the strands of platinum links that still adorned my chest, making his way down to my breasts. I could feel his hardness digging into my thigh through the thin fabric of his boxers as he nibbled and teased along the edge of my bra, nuzzling and licking the tender flesh. I thought I would go mad if he didn't stop teasing me when he finally released my hands to reach behind me to unhook my bra.

As he pulled the thin straps down my arms and discarded the lacy garment over the edge of the bed, I took a quick peek over at Carlisle. I could barely see his dark eyes under his heavy lids as he watched us with rapt attention, his chest heaving. One hand gripped tightly on the arm of his chair, while the other was rubbing his stiff cock through his underwear.

I gasped as Edward's mouth returned to my chest, but he moved now along the underside of my breasts, nipping and licking. I writhed underneath him, trying to force his lips where I wanted them—I would have urged him closer with my hands, but they were once again trapped in his firm grip above my head.

"Stop… teasing me," I gasped with a moan, and I felt his lips turn upward in a smile against my skin, his breath escaping in a chuckle. I groaned in protest, but he began to draw circles around my aching nipple with his tongue, edging ever nearer to where I wanted him.

"Pleeeeease," I begged, arching into him, and I cried out when his mouth suddenly closed over my hardened peak and scraped it with his teeth, before sucking hard and flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. The sensation sent a bolt of lightning to my core, and I shuddered underneath him. God, he'd just made me come and he hadn't even touched me down there yet.

Fully aware of my body's reaction to him, he spared a smug look for me before he continued to feast on my skin, his lips and tongue laving my other nipple now while one hand continued to pinch and roll the first. Finally, he gradually began to make his way south, both hands now stroking the curves of my waist and hips. He lingered for a moment over my navel, stopping just long enough to dip and swirl his tongue, before continuing to my burning center. The tip of his nose traced along the edge of my panties, his hot breath ghosting over my lace covered mound, until he slowly, teasingly, pulled the delicate fabric over my hips and down my legs. He quickly shed his boxers as well, and a hint of movement to my right told me that my husband had done the same.

My eyes were drawn to Edward's gorgeous cock as it sprang free of his underwear. It was long and thick, and the sight of its engorged head glistening with pre-cum elicited a similar reaction in myself, though I was ashamed to admit to myself just how desperately I ached to feel it inside me. Kneeling between my knees, Edward stopped to take in the sight of me spread before him, bare except for my necklace and heels. His eyes raked over my body, and I felt my flesh burn with the heat of his gaze. His hands grazed down my thighs, and he eased them apart, exposing my sex to him further. He paused one moment more before bowing down between my legs, and when his eyes captured my own, he flattened out his tongue and gave me one, long, slow lick from my entrance to my clit.

Three lustful moans echoed throughout the room, and Edward cocked an eyebrow as he smirked at my reaction, licking his lips to savor my taste. He inhaled a deep breath then, and his eyes closed briefly as he drew my scent in and held it for a moment, before exhaling and blowing his hot breath over my needy clit, making me shudder and gasp. I heard, and felt, him chuckle quietly again, before I felt his fingers slipping between my folds, gently holding them open. I whimpered at his touch and flushed with embarrassment at the way my body responded to him, my juices flowing slick and wet over his hand between my thighs.

Edward murmured something so quietly I couldn't distinguish the words, and then he attacked my slit with his mouth, devouring, licking, nipping. His tongue delved inside my entrance, once, twice, three times, before traveling back up to my clit, where he sucked and flicked at my nub, then scraped it with his teeth. I bucked my hips at his face, and one of his hands went to my hip to hold me steady as he continued his assault. One of my own hands—my left, as I made a conscious effort not to block Carlisle's view—found its way into Edward's tousled hair, anchoring me before I could levitate off the bed.

His mouth alternated between my entrance and my clit with no discernible pattern, driving me ever closer to the brink. But when he thrust two fingers inside my pussy, instantly finding my sweet spot and hitting it relentlessly, at the same time that he latched onto my clit with his teeth, I exploded with a wail. My limbs spasmed with the power of my climax, my eyes clenched tightly shut against the white spots shooting across my vision.

But they snapped open a moment later in shock as, my body still pulsing from my powerful orgasm, Edward impaled me on his cock with one deep thrust.

Edward was the latest in a long parade of men that Carlisle had brought to my bed, starting a year ago on our wedding night. Throughout our brief but intense courtship, I had waited with growing anticipation and impatience to feel his hands on me, to know the weight of his body hovering over mine, the heat of his cock inside me—anything more than the tender, loving kisses that he lavished on me. Imagine my surprise, then, when he finally took me to his bed, only for him to bring in at the last minute a substitute to perform his duties for him. Caught off guard and swept up in the moment, I had thought at first that, odd as it may seem for our wedding night, he had arranged for a threesome, and I had not wished to start off our marriage with a fight when he was so obviously aroused and enjoying things. But he never joined us, me and the man he'd invited in, in the bed, opting to sit and watch, and come by his own hand.

Once it was over, my husband had held me in his arms until we'd both fallen asleep, but even then, his touch on my body remained as innocent as a child's.

I was mortified. I'd asked him if he were gay, and he insisted that he wasn't, that he was only attracted to women, and his all-consuming attraction to me had so shaken him to his core that he had to have me. But I couldn't understand why, if that were so, he wouldn't touch me. He explained that his greatest pleasure came from watching me in the throes of passion, that it wasn't something he could participate in, that he could only be happy by seeing me pleasured by someone else.

I didn't understand it. I didn't want to. I loved him, oh, how I loved him, and determined to have him, over the course of the next several weeks I attempted to seduce him countless times, never succeeding. I felt betrayed, deceived, humiliated, used, and for two months we slept together, yet apart, no matter how I begged him to make love to me, no matter how he pleaded with me to allow him to give me pleasure—in the form of another man.

We had been married for nine weeks or so when we hosted a dinner party in honor of one of Carlisle's colleagues, who was in town to present an important lecture at the university. The evening was a success, and everyone went home satisfied—or so I had thought. Carlisle seemed almost giddy as he led me to our bed, and as I rejoiced at my success in undressing him and getting him to lie down with me, I thought that I had finally helped him to get past his reluctance to be intimate with me.

But then I'd felt another man's hands on me, the heat of another man's body at my back. I thought that perhaps Carlisle had needed the presence of someone else, another man to please me in order to find the strength to do it himself as well. But as he slipped out of my grasp and left our bed to sit and watch once more, I knew it was no use. We watched each other as we both came, he by his hand from the sight of my being pleasured by another man's cock. And the look on his face as he climaxed was euphoric, angelic even.

It was the next morning that I agreed to allow him to provide me with surrogate lovers, though no more than once a week, and I don't think I'd ever seen him so happy, except perhaps when I'd told him I'd marry him. It was then that our weekly ritual began: his preparing for me a luxurious bath, relaxing me with soothing aromas and soft music, pampering me with lush towels as he dried me—which was the most intimate he ever was with me. He would choose my outfit for the evening, delighting in showing off my beauty with designer dresses and expensive finery, regardless of how little I cared about such things, all the while telling me how beautiful and sexy and desirable I was. Then he would take me out to dinner, the symphony, the opera, sometimes a gallery opening or a charity ball, where he would look for my newest lover amongst the gentlemen we'd encounter. He didn't always find someone to match his exacting specifications, and occasionally he would have to call upon a previous liaison to perform his duties, but he always ensured me a man who would respect me, who would treat me the way Carlisle felt I deserved—and of course, a man who would be discreet.

And each time another man took me as the man I loved sat by and watched, another part of me died inside.

Edward's hips slammed against mine as he continued to thrust into me, stretching me around his thick shaft. One of his hands tangled in my hair, my own hands clinging to the straining muscles of his back as the heels of my shoes dug into his ass. His green eyes burned into my own, not looking away even for a second as he pounded into me, his gaze penetrating me even more deeply than his cock. His other hand moved down to my hip, gripping it tightly before pulling my leg up and wrapping his arm underneath my thigh. We both gasped at the new sensation, but he wasn't done yet. He hitched my leg up higher so that my foot rested on his shoulder, then he brought his own knee up underneath me.

"Fuuuuuuuck," he ground out, this new angle allowing him to go even deeper than before. "So fucking good," he repeated, each word punctuated by a deep, sharp thrust. I knew I couldn't last much longer, that familiar coil tightening inside as he pumped in and out, spiraling higher and higher. In desperation, my hands moved to the back of his head, threading into his hair, and I pulled his face down to mine. My lips found his, and our tongues met in the middle, sliding and twisting together. I could taste myself on him, and I moaned wantonly into his mouth. Impossibly, he increased his tempo, his pelvic bone hammering against my clit at a fevered pace, and I gasped as I felt my release suddenly explode within me with a force I'd never before experienced. My fingers dug painfully into Edward's scalp as my pussy convulsed around his cock, triggering his own climax. I vaguely registered a voice shouting my name in ecstasy as Edward cried out incoherently, pulsing deep inside me. His body shuddered and his head collapsed to my shoulder, our sweat mingling and our breaths panting in harmony as we slowly came down from our high.

Edward gently lowered my leg from his shoulder and unbent his knee, but otherwise stayed connected with me still. The arm that had been wrapped around my thigh coasted up my ribs to cup my breast, and his lips found that little spot just behind my ear that made me melt. He kissed it tenderly before tugging gently on my earlobe, then raised his head to gaze down at me. He searched my eyes for a moment before taking my bottom lip between his, nibbling gently, sweetly, and I sighed into his mouth.

A throat roughly clearing itself broke through our little bubble, and Edward jerked his head away from mine, a brief cloud passing by his face. He gingerly pulled out of me, both of us gasping at the sensation as he slid out of my heated flesh. He rose somewhat unsteadily from the bed, removing his condom and depositing it in the trash can Carlisle held out for him. I lay still and watched dispassionately as Edward hurriedly gathered his discarded clothes and dressed, while Carlisle lazily pulled back on his boxers and retrieved his silk robe from the back of the chair he'd been sitting in and pulled it over his arms, casually knotting it closed.

Edward hastily buttoned his white dress shirt and haphazardly tucked it into his pants. Grabbing his jacket and tie, he turned to me where I lay on the bed, still naked and exposed. He looked torn, frowning, his mouth opening and closing a couple of times as if he were about to speak, and I nodded at him, but at a raised eyebrow from Carlisle and a polite gesture urging him to the door, he looked away and left the room without a word.

I remained still for a moment more as I listened to their footsteps heading for the stairs. But only for a moment. I quickly got up and went about my business, as Carlisle would soon be returning upstairs after seeing our guest to the door.

And yet, I had hoped it wouldn't come to this.

A few minutes later the door creaked slightly on its hinges as my husband came back into our bedroom, his voice preceding him.

"That was the most amazing… I asked him if he'd be willing to do this again, but strangely, he insisted that he'd never come b—Darling, why are you dressed?" he asked, bemused, suddenly noticing that I had pulled my dress back on.

I said nothing as I sat at my dresser and brushed my hair, quickly pulling it into a ponytail. The style didn't exactly go with the dress, but that was hardly my biggest concern at the moment.

"Isabella?" Carlisle asked again, his voice only hinting at the concern I could see in his face. "What's going on?"

I stood silently and walked over to my closet, going to the back and pulling out a rolling suitcase, already packed and ready to go. It was then that I stopped and really looked at Carlisle. I could hear my heart pounding, and I willed myself to keep my calm during the next few moments.

"Isabella," Carlisle's voice was now barely more than a whisper. "What…"

"I'm sorry, Carlisle," I said. "I just…" I swallowed thickly. "I can't do this anymore."

"What do you mean? What are you saying?" His voice was shaking.

"You tell me you love me. You tell me you want nothing more than to give me my greatest desire." I paused, fighting for control of my voice. "But don't you see? All I wanted was you, Carlisle, and that's the one thing you can't give me."

"I…"

"No," I interrupted him. "Don't. I understand that you… that you can't help it. But I can't live like this. I had hoped that tonight… I thought maybe if I chose…" My breath was starting to come in irregular gasps, and I had to stop for a moment to regain my composure.

"Isabella, I…" This time he stopped himself at my look of utter resignation. His shoulders slumped, his face crumpling in despair.

"I'm so sorry," I said, and I took a few tentative steps toward him, my hands going to the clasp of my necklace. I unhooked it and lifted it carefully from my neck. Grasping one of Carlisle's hands, I pooled the sparkling gems on their delicate strands of platinum into his palm and closed his fingers over them. He stared, unseeing, at our hands, still clasped together.

"I will always love you, Carlisle," I whispered sadly. I brought my fingertips to my lips and kissed them, before gently cupping his cheek. His eyes sought out mine; I thought for a moment that he would try to plead with me one last time, but he said nothing, only turning his lips into my palm and kissing it before I pulled away.

I turned, snatched up the handle of my suitcase, and left him standing there in the middle of what was once our bedroom.

My brain hardly acknowledged the ride in the back of my waiting taxi, buildings and cars blending shapelessly with the bright streetlights of the city. I couldn't say how long it was before the cab pulled up in front of a luxury high-rise and I was riding the elevator up to the twenty-seventh floor. A few steps down the corridor brought me to an unassuming door, and I knocked quietly.

The door opened, the light from the apartment casting a halo of bronze over his head, and strong, welcoming arms pulled me inside. And it was that instant connection, that touch, the tender look in his green eyes, the warmth of his embrace that finally broke my outer wall of calm and I began to sob into his chest.

"Oh, Bella, shhhh," he comforted me, pressing kisses into my hair. "Shhhh. Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll take care of you. Forever and always." 

**A/N:** Please review. I'm thinking of adding a couple of companion pieces to this once the contest is over, so add this to your alerts if you're interested in reading them.


	2. The Proxy

**The Proxy Triptych**

**A/N:** Thanks to everyone who voted for me in the Beyond the Pale contest. With your support, I finished in fifth place, which was certainly better than I expected!

My apologies for the delay in getting chapter two posted; RL got really crazy there for a few weeks.

As always, many thanks to my awesome beta, Zors, especially for them apples. 

**2: The Proxy**

It was a little after nine o'clock when I made it to the restaurant. I found a place at the bar and ordered a Scotch, and as I waited for my drink, I had a look at the other people there. Most of the diners were couples, although there were one or two larger groups scattered throughout the room. Standing to my left as I faced the bar were two middle-aged men, apparently discussing business; while to my right was a younger couple who looked like they might be celebrating something. Perhaps they were still waiting for their table. There was also one other solitary man, like myself, at the far end, while a single woman stood to my left, separated from me by the businessmen. From my periphery I could see she was trying to catch my eye, but I studiously ignored her, turning away from her in order to get a better look at the far corner of the room. She wasn't the reason I was here.

The atmosphere was definitely intended for romance, with its intimate lighting, the wide spaces between tables, and the soft strains of instrumental music. I snorted quietly. It was a French restaurant, and they were playing Vivaldi. At least it wasn't _The Four Seasons_.

My eyes were drawn to the couple sitting at one of the more remote tables, and I noticed I wasn't the only one whose attention was captivated by the pair. The man only had eyes for the woman sitting across from him, and no wonder: she was absolutely stunning. I took a moment to study him; he appeared to be middle-aged, but in excellent shape, blond and good-looking. He was also evidently wealthy, judging by the cut of his suit. I felt my jaw clench slightly, and took another sip of my Scotch, the burn doing little to relax me.

As for the woman… no one else could compare to her. I tried not to stare, but the way the light from the votive on their table cast a warm glow on her mahogany hair and flawless skin was captivating. So too was I mesmerized by the movement of her lips, the flick of her tongue against the pink flesh as she spoke to her companion, her eyes twinkling. The man reached out and brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, and her face blushed a pale rose in response as she smiled at him. His hand gradually trailed down her arm to her hand, where their fingers tangled together.

She eventually drew her hand away from his and shifted in her seat before returning to her meal. The slight movement caused the light to catch on something I hadn't yet noticed.

What the hell was she wearing around her neck? My god, if it was genuine, it had to be worth at least twenty thousand dollars. Was it his money that kept her with him? Because otherwise I failed to understand how a woman such as herself, who could easily have anyone she desired, would want to stay with someone who treated her the way I'd heard he did.

God, this was so fucked up. Yet as disgusted as I was, I couldn't help but be… intrigued.

I turned back to the bar, leaning against it with my forearms, and took another sip of my Scotch.

I shook my head minutely, inwardly struggling with this whole thing. I couldn't stand here and watch them, but I remained where I was, slowly nursing my drink. Letting my eyes wander over the bar, I eventually noticed that I could just glimpse a reflection of them in the mirror behind the rows of top shelf liquors. They were slightly obscured by the pour spouts on the bottles of bourbon, and I avoided watching them as best I could, but I could see them well enough to know when the plates from their main course were cleared away.

It was only then that I angled myself again slightly to the right so that I could see them better without directly facing them as I had when I'd first arrived. I waited as they perused the dessert menu and noticed when their attention finally started to wander to the other occupants in the room. I self-consciously straightened my posture, then inwardly snorted at myself. Through my periphery I registered movement as the man at the table looked over his shoulder toward the bar.

Another fifteen minutes or so passed, during which the couple next to me were shown to their table, and I spent the time turning my nearly empty whisky glass around in circles along the surface of the bar. I just happened to glance up at the mirror as the man in the far corner pushed his chair away from the table to stand, and I straightened again in anticipation, though I studiously avoided turning in his direction.

It was then that I heard one of the businessmen next to me interrupt his soliloquy on the day's trading on Wall Street.

"He's heading this way," he said, leaning in toward his associate and dropping his voice so I had to strain to hear him. "Think it'll be one of us?"

"That's why we're here, isn't it?" the other replied. "I've been waiting for my turn longer than you have."

Whatever the first one said in response was lost in a haze of jealousy and outrage. I had to remove my hand from the glass before it shattered in my grip. But I fought myself for control; he was only a few steps away from us.

I felt a hand brush against my right shoulder, and I steeled myself for whatever was to come next. I coaxed a calm expression onto my face, my fingers from their white knuckled fists, and turned to face the man standing just behind me.

"Excuse me for interrupting, but might I have a word? And perhaps I can buy you a refill?" he asked politely in a low voice, a nod indicating my empty glass.

I thanked him and gave the bartender my order, then took the opportunity to observe him more closely. He was a few inches shorter than I, and though I knew he was fifteen years my senior, he could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. He was dressed impeccably and very well groomed, with not a hair out of place. And yes, I was man enough to recognize that he was what most women would consider handsome; with his blond hair, grey eyes, and high cheek bones, I think an apt description might be "leading man" good looks. He also exuded a certain air of calm confidence that, had I not known better, would have encouraged me to put my trust in him.

"Dr. Carlisle Cullen, by the way," he said, extending his hand.

"Edward Masen," I responded, and I was surprised to be met with a firm grip. The bartender returned with my Scotch and stepped away; I raised my glass in thanks for the drink and took a small sip. "You wanted to ask me something?"

"More like…extend an invitation," Cullen replied. I cocked an eyebrow at him before he continued. He leaned in closer, almost conspiratorially, and lowered his voice still more. "This is a special evening for my wife and I," he said, "and…" He paused and looked away for a moment, his lips pursing with a private smile. I fought the urge to slug him.

"My wife has expressed an interest in meeting you," he continued, returning his gaze to mine. "And I was wondering if you could be trusted to be discreet."

"Discreet?"

He gave me a polite smile as he appraised me. "Yes, discreet. Know when certain things should be kept private."

I paused before answering him, considering his words. Had he ever bothered to ask this question before? Because judging from what I'd gathered, discretion didn't seem to have been a real concern on previous occasions.

"I understand the need for discretion in certain areas, yes," I eventually nodded.

"Excellent," he said, sounding relieved, his smile growing wider. "Now, my wife and I are about to retire to our home for the evening, and we would love for you to… join us." He said the last two words with a touch of emphasis and what I assumed he thought was a "significant" look. I fought to keep my facial expression calm and interested, when what I really wanted to do was something a bit more… violent.

"Are you implying what I think you are?" I asked quietly. I got another smile in return and a small nod. "Which is your wife?"

"Far left corner, brunette in the brown dress," he replied, and I detected a note of smugness in his tone. The hand not holding my drink twitched.

I made a show of seeking her out at the far end of the room, and sure enough, she was sitting alone at their table, watching us. As soon as I looked her way, though, she averted her eyes, as if embarrassed to have been caught.

I turned back to her husband standing next to me. "Beautiful," I congratulated him. "You are a very lucky man." _Lucky that I haven't decked you yet._

"I am indeed," he agreed with another smile. "About tonight, however, I have just one stipulation." I waited silently for him to continue.

"You must not kiss her on the mouth," he said. I had been expecting something like this, but I pretended as if this were news to me, furrowing my brow and nodding.

"She is my wife, after all."

Fucking hell, he was goddamn lucky we were in a public place right now.

ooOOoo

I followed behind them in my own car to their townhouse in one of the most exclusive neighborhoods in the city, and I was fortunate to find parking on the street. I watched as they climbed the stairs and entered through their front door, his hand on the small of her back, gently guiding her steps. I sat in my car for a moment or two, considering whether or not I should actually do this, but in the end I really had no choice. Within seconds, it seemed, I found the front door opening before me without remembering even leaving my car.

"Come in, come in," Cullen welcomed me with an eager smile and shook my hand again. I stepped over the threshold and waited for him as he closed and locked the door behind me.

"Uh, just a quick word before I introduce you to my wife," he then said to me in a hurried whisper as he turned back to me.

"Yes?"

He clasped his hands together and leaned forward, one eyebrow raised and a sheepish smile on his face. Was he… embarrassed? Or just a really good actor?

"My wife, she…" he paused and his smile widened a fraction. "She wants you to herself tonight. And she… wants me to watch." He eyed me carefully, watching for my reaction.

I blinked at him, feigning shock, both eyebrows shooting up toward my hairline and I forced a cough. "Excuse me?" Was this how he introduced this part of the evening's proceedings to every man who received an invitation? Or were things genuinely different tonight somehow?

"Yes," he responded, his eyes seeking out mine to show his sincerity. "I want you to make love to my wife while I watch. In a way you are… my anniversary gift to her."

My jaw dropped and I sputtered, an uncomfortable feeling rising in my throat. "Your anniver—I don't know about this," I said, shaking my head and raising my hands palm forward. I started to take a step back toward the door when he halted me with a hand on my arm.

"Please," he entreated. "She specifically asked for you."

I frowned at him, studying his expression. He appeared earnest and genuine, and I just didn't get it.

"I just want to make her happy," he added, his eyes begging me to stay.

I thought about the woman in the next room, how much I wanted her, as I briefly closed my eyes before exhaling sharply and giving him a curt nod. He beamed at me, his smile lighting the dark foyer, and he ushered me forward.

I barely registered his calling her Isabella as he introduced us, as immediately upon entering the room, my attention was riveted on the beautiful woman standing before me.

I couldn't help it; I found myself openly flirting with her in front of her husband, kissing her hand and gazing into her deep brown eyes. I enjoyed watching the effect I seemed to have on her; she blushed, her breath caught, her voice shook ever so slightly, and I felt a warmth course through my frame that had nothing to do with the Scotch I was sipping. She was mesmerizing, and she was even more stunning up close.

We exchanged pleasantries, and Cullen made a show of modesty. I couldn't tell if it were genuine or not, but the way his wife—Isabella—reacted to it, she seemed to believe he was sincere. At this point, Ididn't much care, and I was starting to wonder how we were going to move things along when Cullen provided the opening himself. Hardly subtle, I must say, but I played along with it, pretending that we didn't all three of us know what I was here for.

He led us upstairs to their bedroom, and I enjoyed an eyeful of his wife's delectable ass and toned legs as they walked ahead of me. I had to wonder if she was consciously putting on a show for my benefit to seduce me—as if I needed seducing. When we entered their private chamber, a large room with luxurious furnishings, we finally dropped the pretenses as I took the proffered chair opposite the bed and waited for the events of the evening to unfold.

Cullen moved behind his wife where she stood before me at the foot of the bed. With his hands on her shoulders, he turned her gently so she was facing me. He caressed her arms tenderly, nuzzling into her hair, and I saw his lips move as he whispered to her, but I couldn't catch what he said. Whatever it was, Isabella closed her eyes in response and leaned back into him, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.

My God, she was gorgeous, so sensual. I watched, rapt, as Cullen's hands skimmed along her sides to her waist, where he halted to untie the knot of her dress that lay at her left hip. He parted the dress, unwrapping her like a gift, his fingers brushing against her skin on their way back up to her shoulders. As the curves of her exquisite body were revealed to me, slowly, seductively, by her husband's hands, I could feel my pants tightening painfully around my growing arousal. As he began to peel the lace sleeves from her arms, I noticed how he was kissing her graceful neck, and I was forced to grip onto the arms of the chair I was sitting in to prevent myself from lunging forward and shoving him away from her. I wanted his hands, his lips, off of her. Now.

When he'd tossed the dress aside to drape over the back of a dressing table chair, Isabella's eyes snapped open and found mine. I let my gaze drink her in, every inch of her porcelain skin, only her breasts and the juncture of her thighs hidden from me by delicate scraps of lace and velvet. How I longed to touch her, lose myself in her, bury my nose in her scent, my hands in her hair that now fell down around her shoulders, my cock in her heat.

"Is she not the most beautiful creature you've ever seen?"

Cullen's voice startled me out of my haze of lust, but only just. I focused intently on Isabella's eyes, letting her see just how much I desired her, and the faint coloring in her cheeks, her increased breathing, the way she discreetly tried to squeeze her thighs together, told me how much I affected her.

"Oh, by far," I said, licking my lips in anticipation. She had to be wet, and I couldn't wait to taste her.

As he moved to kneel at her feet, I almost barked at him to leave her shoes on. I needed his hands off her. I even had him leave the necklace where it was, as I was getting impatient. His reaction to my demands, though, was not what I expected; his own arousal seemed heightened, his eyes darkening as he smiled in response. The man disgusted me.

Finally, he led her by the hand to the side of the bed, and once she had lain down he arranged her body as if she were a doll, parting her legs and leaving her with one knee bent, exposing her to my gaze. Then, turning to me, he motioned for me to stand as he began to remove his clothes, casually draping each item over the same chair where he'd tossed his wife's dress. I followed suit, quickly stripping and laying my own clothes on the chair I'd been sitting in. I stopped when I was down to my boxers, noticing that Cullen had stopped there too. I hesitated, waiting to see what would happen next. I'd heard some, but not all, the details of how things proceeded during these liaisons, and I didn't want to risk upsetting either of them and perhaps cutting things short.

Without a word to me, Cullen turned back to his wife and placed one knee on the bed as he leaned over her. I watched from the foot of the bed as he kissed her chastely, and my heart clenched as she tried to pull him closer. She wanted him. And yet, I'd been told she wanted me tonight. This was all so confusing.

Regardless, he pulled her hands away from him, whispering something else to her that I didn't catch. I heard her, though, and what I did nearly made me grab my clothes and run for the door.

My thoughts were in turmoil as Cullen grabbed my wrist and pulled me forward onto the bed, placing my hand in hers. I vaguely registered his placing a condom packet on the nightstand next to his wife's head and moving to sit in the chair next to it, facing us.

God, what was I doing here? Did they go through this ritual every time? Regardless of how much I wanted this woman, how painfully hard I was, how could it be right to do this with her, to her? In front of her _husband_? It's not like I had any qualms about being naked in front of another man; I'd seen and been seen by enough other guys in locker rooms over the years for that not to be an issue. I'd never had sex in front of someone before, though, although I didn't have any worries about my performance—and certainly not in front of this asshole. But they were married… She wanted, _loved_ him… Again, what was I doing here? And then it came back to me that she had asked for me. Me specifically. And fuck, how I wanted her. I had wanted her since the first moment I had laid eyes on her.

A gentle squeeze of her hand on mine brought my attention back to her, and my blood quickened. This was my chance to show her how it ought to be between a husband and his wife, my chance to show her how I felt about her, if she was willing to listen. I had to do this right.

I knelt between her legs, ghosting my hands along the skin of her inner thighs. Touching her heated flesh set me on fire, and I had to fight the urge to rip the lace from her body and take her right then. Instead I lifted one shapely leg, bringing my lips to her delicate ankle and trailing kisses along her calf to her knee, taking my time to taste her skin with the tip of my tongue. After repeating this on the other, I then leaned down and made my way up her thighs, kissing and licking, and I could smell her arousal. I wanted to drown myself in her scent, and I would… but not yet.

I moved on instead to each arm, making love to every finger, her palms, every inch of skin up to her shoulders. I covered her in kisses, lavishing her with the attention and affection she deserved, worshiping her. Grasping her hands in mine, I raised her arms over her head, entrapping her as I assaulted her neck with my mouth. Her body moved sensuously under mine as tiny moans and whimpers escaped with her panting breath. God, the little noises she was making were so turning me on, and I don't think she was even aware of them. I was so hard already I thought I might explode, and I slowed things down just a little, teasing us both. I trailed the tip of my nose along the top edge of lace covering her breasts, then I went back along the same path with my tongue and teeth. Whining, she arched her back, and with a grin I let go of her hands, one of mine slipping underneath her to unclasp her bra, the other quickly palming the condom from the nightstand beside her head and depositing it next to me within easy reach.

I slid the delicate fabric off her body, dropping it to the floor, and gazed in admiration at the feminine swells of her chest. Perhaps it was cliché to think so, but I swore I'd never seen such perfect breasts in my life, beautifully rounded and soft, evenly balanced, the perfect size to fit in my hands, tipped by rosy pink nipples that were already hard and begging for my attention. I spared only a moment before attacking her anew, my mouth seeking out the underside of her breasts, nipping and licking, making her gasp, while my hands caught hers again above her head.

With desperate movements underneath me she tried to force my mouth to her nipples, but I stayed away, sucking at her silky skin, dragging my tongue up the valley between her breasts. I teased her mercilessly until she demanded with a moan that I stop; I chuckled, and slowly moved my head so that just the tip of my tongue could trace circles around her needy, puckered flesh, so close, but still not where she wanted me. I blew on her damp skin and delighted as her nipple tightened even further.

"Pleeeease…" she begged, so sweetly, her moan sending a shockwave to my groin as she arched underneath me again, pushing her breast closer to my mouth, and I finally gave in, latching onto her peak voraciously with my teeth. She cried out in shock, her chest rising even higher, and I sucked hard on her nipple before flicking it rapidly back and forth with the tip of my tongue.

With another loud cry, her body shuddered underneath mine, and I watched, spellbound, as she came apart, her blush suffusing her skin with a rosy glow. My eyes met hers as I smirked before I dove in to lavish her other nipple with the same attention, not giving her time to recover from her orgasm as I continued to play her.

Both nipples thoroughly licked and sucked, it was time to move down. I took a moment to tongue her navel and enjoy the little gasp that interrupted her whimpers and moans that were now on constant repeat, before reaching the lacy edge of her panties. I skimmed the surface of her skin with the tip of my nose from one hip to the other and tugged playfully at the pair of delicate little satin bows in the center of her panties with my teeth, until I finally began to pull them down her legs.

When I reached her feet, I dropped her panties to the floor to join her bra, followed by my own hastily removed boxers. I noticed movement in the corner of my eye and assumed that Cullen was doing the same, but I didn't stop to check. It didn't bare thinking about, and I had something far more enticing demanding my attention.

I knelt once more between her legs and stopped for a moment to gaze at her from head to toe. She was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen, beyond any dream of feminine perfection I'd ever had. Gently, with reverence even, I urged apart her thighs and paused, my breath catching at the sight of her neatly trimmed sex, but more than that, how incredibly wet she was for me, her juices dripping over her delicate folds. _Jesus fuck._ My cock, hard and heavy, twitched in anticipation, and my mouth watered, aching to taste her.

I bowed in worship before my goddess, and I made sure to catch her eye, trapping her in my gaze, before I leaned forward and paid homage to her with my tongue.

I moaned out loud at her tangy flavor, and I smirked at her own breathy moan that I had forced out of her. I licked my lips, spreading her taste, and I inhaled deeply of her heady scent, letting it intoxicate me, before I blew over her clit. I smiled again as she shuddered for me, her breath hitching. With a gentle touch of my fingertips, I held apart her folds, and watched in awe as even more juices dripped over my hands.

"Jesus, you're so wet," I murmured, then I dove in in a frenzy. Her scent, her taste, was driving me mad, and I couldn't get enough. Her fluids coated my tongue as I delved deeper, plunging into her pussy with my thick muscle, before pulling back out to circle and suck her clit. She bucked against my face, and I held her down with a hand to her hip, while she latched onto my hair, tugging it painfully by the roots at the same time as she held me tight to her sex.

She cursed incoherently through her moans, and when the sounds she was making grew more frantic, I knew she was getting close. I plunged two fingers into her entrance, instantly finding her sweet spot, and as I hit it again and again, I fastened my teeth onto her clit.

She came with a shriek, her whole body convulsing with the force of her orgasm, and as she lay there trembling, I grabbed the foil packet at my side, wrapped my cock, grabbed her hips in both hands, and thrust balls deep into her pussy.

Her eyes snapped open in shock as I penetrated her. Her gaze locked onto mine in the barest moment that I gave her to adjust to my invasion before I started slamming into her. She wrapped her arms around my back, her hands clinging to my shoulder blades, and she lifted her legs to encircle my waist; the heels of her shoes digging into my ass, but I welcomed the pain—it kept me grounded.

As I pounded into her, I cradled the back of her head in one hand, my fingers tangling in her silky hair. My other hand, still at her right hip, moved to wrap my arm underneath her thigh. I lifted her leg over my shoulder, briefly grabbing her ankle to plant a kiss there, before I pulled my left knee up underneath her.

I swore loudly as her pussy tightened around my dick, and I could feel the head of my cock hitting her cervix. The pitch of her cries rose an octave, her mouth gaping open, gasping for air.

Her hands moved from my shoulders to the back of my head, her fingernails scraping against my scalp, and she pulled me down to her, her mouth covering my own and forcing her tongue inside to twist around mine. Her moan vibrated into my chest, and I quickened my pace, hammering against her like a battering ram. She was all around me, her taste, her scent, her sounds, her burning heat wrapped around my cock, and I couldn't get close enough… Until she shattered, her pussy clenching and pulsing around my shaft, and I exploded, roaring like an animal as I spasmed inside her.

My head fell to her shoulder as our bodies continued to rock with aftershocks. I didn't think I'd ever come so hard in my life, and I found it difficult to catch my breath. Gradually, my vision returned, and I gingerly lowered her leg off my shoulder and straightened my own, but I was reluctant to break our connection otherwise. Her fingers, no longer clenched tightly, threaded through my hair, and I began to nuzzle against her ear, placing butterfly kisses against her jaw. My hand crept up from her hip to cup and knead her breast, the pad of my thumb grazing her nipple, and at a tiny whimper from her, I lifted my head to gaze down at her. How was it possible for her to be even more beautiful than before? Her soul poured through her eyes at me, her loneliness and her hope, and I leaned down to capture her lips tenderly with mine, making a promise.

The sound of someone clearing his throat—Cullen—brought me crashing back to earth, and I tore away abruptly from our kiss. Of course. We had been doing something he had expressly forbidden, and he was annoyed. What a bastard, to deny his wife any kind of affection from the men who— I shut my eyes against that thought and pulled out of her slowly, gently, but we still gasped at the sensation that assaulted our oversensitive nerves.

I almost stumbled as I got to my feet, my equilibrium having been thrown off balance by what had just taken place. I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious, standing there completely exposed in front of another man… And not just any man, but the husband of the woman I'd just made love to. In front of him. My fingers fumbled nervously as I removed the condom from my now flaccid cock and dropped it into the trash can that Cullen shoved at me. I avoided his face as I hastily retrieved my clothes and started pulling them on; I didn't want to see the look in his eyes. I wondered… would he seem pleased? Angry? Jealous? Disappointed? I was curious, but I didn't want to know. No matter what his reaction, I knew it would sicken me, like biting into an apple and finding it had gone black and soft with decay, and I was struck yet again by just how fucked up this situation was, and now that I'd played my part in it, I was beginning to feel just as disgusted with myself.

As I raced to button my shirt, out of the corner of my eye I could see that Cullen had pulled on a robe, mercifully obscuring his nudity. I snagged my jacket and tie off the back of the chair I'd sat in when I first arrived in the room, and finally turned back to look at the woman lying on the bed. She had made no move to cover herself, but instead lay there watching me, one arm folded under her head, the other resting on the creamy skin of her stomach. She was radiantly beautiful, her hair fanning out over the pillow, her nipples standing to attention and invitingly pink. She was so fucking gorgeous, and despite the forceful climax I'd just experienced, I felt my cock twitch in response to the sight before me.

I was about to leave—even to be kicked out, apparently, judging by the impatient stance of my host—and I felt I should say something to this woman. But what the hell did one say in such a circumstance? What _could_ I say that wasn't either potentially offensive or too revealing? Compliments were hardly appropriate, no matter how warranted. Telling the truth—that being with her had perhaps been the most profound moment in my life—would be too much. And to insist that she leave her husband, leave him _now_, and come away with me… No. That wouldn't do at all.

But she couldn't stay here. Not like this.

She must have seen the conflict in my eyes, because she gave me a tiny smile and nodded almost imperceptibly. I reluctantly dragged my gaze away from her, noticing Cullen standing with his arm outstretched toward the door, politely motioning me toward the door. Taking a deep breath, I turned on my heel and exited the room, without a word to Isabella. She knew.

Cullen escorted me through the house to the front door. As we walked he spoke effusively.

"I have never seen such a response from her," he gushed. "That took us both to such new heights…" His voice trailed off for a moment and I glanced over at him as we jogged down the stairs. His face held an expression of near rapture, as if he were reliving the moment of ecstasy his wife and I had just experienced. His eyes closed briefly and he even caught his fucking bottom lip between his teeth before he turned his beaming smile on me. I looked away, making a show of watching where I put my feet.

He accompanied me to the entry hall and stopped me at the front door with a hand on my elbow.

"Masen—_Edward_," he began, emphasizing my name as if we'd become the closest of friends, "this has been the most amazing experience Isabella and I have had yet, and let me tell you, we've had some _very_ exciting…" He stopped himself short, giving me what I could only describe as a coy expression, and I felt the bile rise in my throat. "I know I speak for my wife when I ask you—no, _beg_ you—to consider allowing us to call on you again sometime. I'm not exaggerating when I say that I have never seen her respond to any man quite the way she did with you just now. She's never been so vocal, so aroused, so _beautiful_ when she's climaxed. I don't remember ever coming so forcefully before myself, either. You… You're… Please, tell me you'll agree to do this with us again." His blue eyes held an earnest expression of admiration as he gazed at me, his skin nearly glowing with both satisfaction and anticipation.

I frowned at him, weighing my words carefully before I spoke. "I have trouble understanding how you can be okay watching another man with your wife, Dr. Cullen. If she were mine, I would treasure her, worship her, make love to her every night. I would guard her jealously from other men, not because I didn't trust her, but because I wouldn't be able to trust them in her presence. "

His obvious excitement dimmed into confusion at my words, and he opened his mouth to respond, but I continued. "The answer is no. I will not be coming back. I can't." I looked away from him toward the door, because I simply couldn't face him anymore. My disgust, my shame began to build inside me like a canker, along with my rage at this man that was swiftly returning. I felt my brow furrow in anger, the muscles in my jaw tighten, and my hands clench into painful fists; I knew I had to leave in the next few seconds or things would get very messy.

I reached out and turned the deadbolt myself before wrenching the front door open and stepping out into the slight chill of the night. I heard him call after me in confusion, but I ignored him, and I was already at the foot of the steps leading to his house when I heard the click of the latch behind me.

The drive home was lost in a sea of outrage, but I wasn't sure whom I was angry with more, myself or Cullen. That bastard apparently was so fucked up he didn't know any better, but damn it all, I did. And I'd gone through with it anyway. How could I possibly have believed, even for a second, that I could do such a thing and come out of it unscathed? Regardless of whether or not she'd wanted me… I'd been used—by both of them, damn it—and now I was… lost. I'd lost my way, my integrity, my _heart_.

Slamming my way through my apartment until I reached my bedroom, I peeled off my suit and my underwear in disgust, replacing them with an old, comfortable pair of jeans and a t-shirt. I frowned at the pile of expensive wool, cotton, and silk on the floor and contemplated burning it. As if destroying my suit could somehow cleanse me of my shame.

Barefoot, I padded back into my living room, turning the lights on to chase away the shadows. God, if I'd needed a drink at any point during the evening, it was now. I hadn't actually had that much over the course of the evening, considering I'd slowly nursed one at the restaurant, and barely touched either of the two Cullen had supplied me. My hands shook as I poured the amber liquid into the glass, nearly spilling it.

I stood there next to my bar cabinet, letting the heat of the whisky burn away the tension in my body, and I willed myself to calm down enough to think. And that was when it hit me. The conviction I'd had from the very beginning came back and I remembered that this act, this whole fucked up business, _none_ of it had been for myself. I'd done it all for her. It had always been for her, and it didn't matter how much I loathed myself right now. She was the only thing that mattered.

I swallowed another large mouthful of Scotch, wincing at the burn, and let out a long, cleansing breath. A quiet knock broke through my thoughts, and I went to the door. Opening it, I found a fallen and desperate angel, her eyes begging for warmth and solace, and I pulled her into my arms, relief nearly bringing me to my knees. I brought her inside far enough to close the door behind her, and almost immediately she began to sob, my heart clenching at the piteous sound. I tightened my arms around her, her body next to mine warming me more than any alcohol.

Kissing her hair, I sought to comfort her. "Oh, Bella, shhhh," I murmured. "Shhhh. Don't cry, sweetheart. I'll take care of you. Forever and always." She was here now, and nothing else mattered.

* * *

**E/N:** This will be a four-part piece, and while I can't give you an estimate when I'll be posting the next chapter, I can tell you that I have already written part of the final chapter. For those of you waiting on an update for TMitM, I'll get back to that as soon as I get Proxy out of my head. Thanks for your patience.


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